


i should've known i was weaker from the start

by maisiedaisy



Series: in which prokopenko is kavinsky's downfall [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Drug Use, Heavy Angst, M/M, Overdosing, Wow sorry guys, but not between proko and k, honestly im sorry i did this to k, maybe next time it'll be happier and possible smut, speaking of smut there will be some minor sexual action, this is mostly Kavinsky-centric, this was supposed to be fluff but i got carried away, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9313403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maisiedaisy/pseuds/maisiedaisy
Summary: “I’m so fucking high and so fucking in love with you, God.” K is choking on this emotion, it’s strange and it almost hurts in the sweetest way.~~~Joseph Kavinsky is entirely breakable and only Prokopenko knows how to ruin him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel but you don't really have to read the first part. I mean it might make a little bit more sense but y'know.You don't have to. Also this is unedited because I'm lazy as fuck sue me so there might be a few errors which I will correct later.

Kavinsky leaves in the afternoon.

 

Proko is curled against his ribcage, his ear pressed to where K’s heart is beating. Kavinsky feels strung up, tightly coiled around Prokopenko’s pinky finger. It’s a trapped, claustrophobic feeling and it makes him wonder what the fuck he’s doing with someone like Proko. 

K is a piece of shit trash, angry and sad and with so much baggage it’s hard to keep track of it all. Proko is too good for him, he knows it (doesn’t doubt that the younger boy deserves someone who’s hands don’t shake when they hold his heart).

 

He pulls himself out of their bed ( _ his  _ bed, really) slowly, sluggish and regretful. With the absence of Proko’s heat, Kavinsky is shivering, it’s strange, actually. It’s been awhile since he’s felt cold. Proko had somehow managed to light like a match inside of him and Kavinsky realizes now, why he needs to leave. He is Joseph fucking Kavinsky and he should not need to depend on anyone, much less Prokopenko. (he leaves but he thinks it’s too late anyways. prokopenko might as well be his oxygen). 

 

_ … _

 

Swan is the one who calls him. “Proko’s worried about you man. Thinks you need to come home.” K snorts because of course Proko would be worried. Sometimes, it seems like the young blonde boy is the only one in their close group who gives a shit about anyone else. Kavinsky wants to tell Swan to take care of Proko for him. “If he was really worried, he’d be the one calling me, not you.” K says instead, because he’s exactly who Ronan Lynch says he is--a coward.

“You scare him.” That alone is enough to shake Kavinsky to the core, unsettles him in a way he’s never been before. “You’ll break his heart.” Swan finishes, his words whispered as if Proko is in the same room. 

(k knows it he doesn’t need swan to remind him again)

 

_... _

 

There’s something aching in the atmosphere a little while later. Kavinsky realizes that it’s  _ him _ . He doesn’t know what to make of the hurt feeling in his chest.  _ Proko would cry _ . He thinks. Because Proko is so beautifully emotional, feels everything so much deeper than anyone K has known in his sad life. That’s one of the reasons K is so fucking in lo--

 

_... _

 

He’s so fucking high now, has a slim, sandy-haired slut hanging his head against K’s collarbones. The boy is writhing against him choppily, different than the languid, smooth movements of Proko and K finds himself gripping the boy’s waist. The party around him is thrumming with sexual energy and cocaine and K shouldn’t feel this guilty (k hates proko a little bit more for being the one to unlock this chest of feelings). “Baby.” The boy moans and K ruts sharply against him, tonguing the side of the boy’s neck. The boy moans again, deep and loud and not at all like the soft, feminine whimpers that come from Proko like a prayer. 

He grips the boys ass, using his fingers as vessels to carry his frustration. It feels like ages until the boy comes (proko would be done already, on his knees sucking k off). When he does he stands up shakily and sends K a nasty smile. “Thanks, baby boy.” He grins, as if being some college whore makes him all the more superior to K, and walks away. Kavinsky is  _ furious  _ because he realizes that he’s just been used. It takes him a moment to think if this is how Proko feels when K fucks him then drops him. (he takes so many drugs that night he’s sure he’s dead when he wakes up).

 

_... _

 

A week has passed and Kavinsky decides he’s fucked himself up enough to return home. No one says anything when he returns home and he’s only slightly annoyed that nobody bothers to ask where he’s been, who he’s fucked, what he’s been doing. In fact, nobody even looks up from what they’re doing. K wants to ask where Proko is but remembers that he’s better off without the younger boy. Swan tells him anyways, like he can hear his thoughts. 

(proko is in k’s room)

 

_... _

  
  


He’s assaulted with a warm pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders. He pushes away because, whoa affection is not something K wants to be involved in. (he’s already broken that rule before though). “I was so  _ worried  _ about you, K.” Proko’s voice is breathy and K finds himself disgusted with how easy it would be to make Proko do whatever he wanted. 

“Fuck off.” K says, instead of pulling the other boy into a bruising kiss. 

Proko’s eyes are only slightly hurt, his lower lip pushed into a bewildered pout. He follows K into the bathroom, his fingers twisting together in that nervous way he does.”Where were you? Are you okay? Why’d you leave?” His questions blur together, pressing against K’s hungover headache. He shuts the door in Proko’s face. 

 

_... _

 

“Just leave me the fuck alone. We are nothing. This is nothing. You are nothing . Stop acting like my goddamn boyfriend all the goddamn time.” He spits out when Proko tries to crawl into bed with him. He hides himself away from the heartbreak he knows is on the other boy’s face.

 

_... _

 

Kavinsky wakes up and Proko is gone. His clothes are not on the floor and his old sneakers aren’t by the door. K ignores Jiang’s accusing glare and asks Skov if he wants to get high on the roof. (skov says no fucking thanks so k does it alone)

 

_... _

 

He aches a little. Jiang tells him it’s called missing someone. K tells him he can go fuck himself.

 

_... _

 

At night all K can think about is where Proko is spending the nights. Is he curled up and some other boy’s bed? Letting someone else erase K’s name from Proko’s lips? He imagines a fucked-out Proko, naked and flushed, stretched and purring like the fucking whore he is. Proko has always been naively sensual and Kavinsky knows he’s not really a slut. Only someone who falls in love too often and too fast, always with the wrong sort of people who will fill him up with something wonderful and then discard him. (k wants to kill himself when he realizes he’s exactly like all those others).

 

_... _

 

He decides to go to school the next day;  secretly hopes he’ll catch a glimpse of Proko’s slim body. He’s halfway through the main doors when he catches a flash of white-gold. He wants to go after him but the look Skov sends him tells him to give Proko space. 

 

During lunch, Kavinsky sees Proko talking to Richard motherfucking Gansey and wants to burn the school down with Gansey in it. (mine mine mine mine). He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and heads to the locker rooms, an itch scratching it’s way under K’s hands, like they miss the way Proko’s hips fit into them. 

 

_... _

 

Proko is angry and it’s glorious. His eyes are flashing and  _ molten _ . It makes K want to drop to his knees because he’s so breathless in that split second. “Fuck you.” He spits at Kavinsky and his hands drop back to his side. His eyes are wide and wet when he turns away and K wants to lick the tears he knows will fall down the beautiful boy’s cheeks in a few seconds. But Proko is gone in a flash and K is left with a thumping heart, full of a raincloud, heavy and hurting. (it takes three counts to ten to finally stop the quivering in his throat because joseph kavinsky does not cry).

 

_ … _

 

Outgoing Message (2:09 a.m.): Proko

 

_ Come home baby, please. I’m sorry. _

 

_ … _

 

Kavinsky deletes the message and sends a picture of his dick instead, more to convince himself that Proko’s absence has no effect on him.

 

_ … _

 

Kavinsky sees Proko at the mall two days later. He’s by himself but he’s never looked happier. It’s so odd, Kavinsky thinks. Because Prokopenko is boy who thrives around others, seems to shut off and sink into himself when he is alone. But here--now--Proko looks better, braver, happier. His high, elegant cheekbones are flecked with a healthy flush, his nose crinkling in that adorable way as he laughs at something the clerk says. Kavinsky doesn’t remember ever hearing that laugh before and his heart breaks a little more. 

 

_ … _

 

It’s been a month and Kavinsky finally picks up the nerve to call Proko. His hands are shaking from the crack he snorted and the green pills he dreamt. There’s a sigh as the call is answered. “K.” Proko says tiredly. “It’s three in the fucking morning.”    
“I know. I know, baby. I’m just...I can’t.” He breaks off to take another gulp of vodka and washes it down with a red pill this time.    
“K? Kavinsky?” Proko sounds worried and K wants to soak it all in. When was the last time anyone ever cared what happened to him?

“God Proko, you don’t know how badly I want to kiss you.”   
There is a sharp breath on the other side and a soft murmur, “K, what are you doing?”   
“I’m so fucking high and so fucking in love with you,  _ God _ .” K is choking on this emotion, it’s strange and it almost hurts in the sweetest way.    
“Kavinsky” is a gasp from Proko’s lips. “You don’t know what you’re--you’re high.”   
“I’m always high, doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Is that a tear on his cheek? He swallows the next pill down heavily, his heart racing so fast he can feel it in his throat. His vision is starting to turn blue and it makes him laugh loudly. “You’re everything to me.” His voice is slurred, raw and broken. “You’re the only fucking thing that matters in this shit world.  _ I miss you.” _ He’s crying now (because apparently kavinsky is capable of tears). 

“Joseph, stop it. Are you okay? Do you need help?” Proko’s voice is trembling. K wants to kiss the words from his mouth. 

“No, no, no. I’m not okay. I can’t breathe. I’m--oh fuck.” Kavinsky can feel himself slipping away, his breath is becoming short and labored. “You’re doing this. It’s your fault. You ruin me.” 

“K, where are you?” Proko sounds urgent, far away, as Kavinsky slips into unconsciousness, the phone falling out of his hands and seizures grasping his body. 

 

_ … _

 

Sirens are not unfamiliar to K, even in his overdosed state. He can hear them, taste them thick and sour on his tongue and it reminds him of vomit. His eye is being pried open and a light is shined in it.    
“Is he okay?”  _ Proko.  _

 

_ … _

 

_ It turns out K is not as invincible as he thought. _

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Wow, sorry guys. I know I promised a happy make-up but I didn't expect it to get this angsty. I promise on my OTP the third part will be fluff and maybe smut. Don't give up on me. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Comments are appreciated, I promise I won't attack you for your opinions, I am a changed person now (that's a complete lie but it's okay). 
> 
> Maisie


End file.
